


The Coldfront

by onehaleofanadventure



Series: JayTim Week 2017 [1]
Category: DC Comics, Red Hood and the Outlaws, Red Robin - Fandom
Genre: Day 1: Heatwave/Carnival, He also might cuss, Jason makes murder/death jokes, M/M, its a distinct possibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onehaleofanadventure/pseuds/onehaleofanadventure
Summary: The boys take a trip to the Carnival despite the oppressive heatwave strangling Gotham, and things get chilly.





	The Coldfront

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Super late in the day, I know. I got distract by reading and then food, and you know, whatever else. But I was promised cookies for writing them all. 
> 
> Anyway! I'm not super happy with this one, I don't think it flows super well, but you know.... Hope you enjoy, feel free to come talk to me, I love when people volunteer to be my distractions!(:

“I don’t get it.” Jason sighed.

“Don’t get what, Jay.” Tim mumbled, offhandedly, too busy concentrating on the _obviously_ rigged hoop and bottle game. Seriously, he did the math, there is no way he has missed every single stupid bottle with all seventeen shots.

Jason swatted his hand, causing him to drop two of his last three rings, and earning a vicious glare.

Jason simply rolled his eyes, stating rather loudly and pointed: “First, how haven’t you realized these rings don’t fit these bottles” and turning towards the bored-looking, lanky kid behind the booth, “and we would like the set that actually fit.”

“Fine,” the kid sighed. “You only get three ‘cause that’s all ya’ have left. And, ya’ can’t come back or tell anyone; that’ll get you kicked out.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Jason mumbled under his breath, holding his hand out for the bigger rings.

The just stood there, befuddled. He should have known the rings were too small. He was still calculating the differences the difference in circumference of the first rings and the bottle necks when Jason turned and smirked as the third ring clanked around the same bottle as the other two.

“Something from the middle row,” the kid intoned, back to bored indifference, not looking up from his phone.

“Just for that, I’m getting the Superman plush, not the Wonder Woman one I was going to give to you. Also,” Tim continued softer, so the kid couldn’t hear, “it looks sad, like someone hung Clark.”

Jason rolled his eyes and huffed, “Whatever. He grabbed the plush from the kid before Tim could take it, “Can we go home now. It is so fucking hot, Babybird—“

He paused, turning around with a mischievous smirk, “—I’m dying here.”

Tim glared a little as he rolled his eyes, “ _we_ are here because _our brother,_ Dick wanted a family outing to the Carnival, since the circus doesn’t stop in Gotham anymore—.”

“That doesn’t explain why _I’m_ here.” Jason complains.

“—so, we stay until he’s done gorging himself on fair food and throwing it up on all the rides. It’s a family trip, Jay.” Tim finishes, continuing over Jason’s interruptions.

Jason pouts down at Tim. “I’m technically, well, legally dead, remember? I don’t count for public family events.” Jason felt a small pang of regret at the sad, hurt expression that crossed Tim’s face before it flitted away again, replaced by the blank mask that meant he was beyond angry and not willing to show his rage in public.

“Well,” Tim drawled, words drawn out to express his fury, “you’re _my_ boyfriend, _technically_ , so that means family,” and stomped away.

“Shit.” Jason mumbled. This was going to be bad. He was in so much trouble.

\---

It has been three days, seven hours and roughly 32 minutes since Tim stomped away. Tim has not spoken, not even been in the same room as Jason since. Jason knows he’s fucked. Tim is notorious for his grudges and the patented _Cold Shoulder_. Apparently, when Tim has a really bad day, even Blondie and Dickie get harsh words and comments from fights long passed.

Jason sighs, shrugging on his jacket and pulling on his helmet—he really should have considered the oppressing heat and mugginess of Gotham in the summer when he was doing his last costume upgrade. Even in the cropped jacket, and with the new vents and filters in the helmet, he is left sweaty and disgusting after an hour of swinging across rooftops.

Today though, he has been sitting on _this_ particular rooftop waiting for Tim. The old and dilapidated newspaper factory marks the boundary between his and Tim’s territories, so they meet here whenever they get a chance on patrol. Jason had hoped Tim would have been willing to at least talk to him.

Jason huffs one last time, mentally preparing himself for the heat that awaits once he starts moving again. Jason is going after Tim, going to force him to listen and maybe apologize if that’s what Tim needs to hear.

To be honest though, Jason knows it wasn’t the murder joke that made Tim mad—everyone knows Jason _loves_ to make jokes about his murder and subsequent resurrection. No, it was the family thing that pissed Tim off.

They are family. Jason just has to convince Tim that he already believed that.


End file.
